


The Party

by wheel_pen



Series: Viridian Mal [34]
Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fish out of Water, Gen, Imprinting, Vomit, all-dialog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-17
Updated: 2013-04-17
Packaged: 2017-12-08 19:25:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/765109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheel_pen/pseuds/wheel_pen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trip and Mal attend a party on the Enterprise. Buffets are confusing, and Jon and Porthos may be conspiring against them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Party

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Viridians appear human, but are actually aliens who imprint on other people (Viridian or otherwise) and form a bond with them. They also live their entire life cycle in about six Earth years.
> 
> 2\. In each series, a different character is a Viridian, who was raised by mean Klingons on an outpost. An Enterprise crewmember is captured by the Klingons and they inadvertently form a bond with the Viridian, who helps them escape. Then they return to rescue the Viridian and bring them aboard the Enterprise. The Viridian homeworld is contacted and the Enterprise crew learn the Viridian will most likely die if they are sent away. So they end up staying on the Enterprise, and the crewmember has to adjust.
> 
> 3\. The bad words are censored. That’s just how I do things.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this AU. I own nothing and appreciate the chance to play in this universe.

            "Hmm. I see. A party. Hmm."

            "You don't seem very enthusiastic about the idea."

            "Well, it's just—parties have so many people!"

            "True. It's kind of necessary."

            "I'm sure I shall be horribly nervous!"

            "What's to be nervous about? You'll know everyone there."

            "Oh, Trip! You're so _adept_ at parties. But I don't know what to say or do!"

            "Well, you can stay home if you like."

            "But _you're_ going!"

            "Yes, I am."

            "Then _I_ want to go!"

            "Alright then."

            "I shall endeavor to prepare myself."

            "You do that, buddy."

            "Hmm. Does the party have an occasion or theme?"

            "Umm… I don't think so. I think it's just for fun."

            "Oh dear. So I shan't be required to make a costume?"

            "No, that won't be necessary, Mal."

            "I think it would be lovely to wear a costume. Then I would know what to say to people, because we would talk about my costume."

            "If you _did_ come in costume, I'm sure people _would_ talk about it, because no one else would be wearing one."

            "How about just a mask? A shiny black mask. With feathers!"

            "What? No, no mask needed, Mal. Feathers…"

            "Then, with the mask, no one would know who I was! Wouldn't that be funny?"

            "Um, Mal, what makes you think no one would know who you were? It would be pretty obvious."

            "How so, Trip? I mean, a shiny black mask with feathers would be a pretty good disguise!"

            "Um, well… I think your behavior would give you away."

            "Give me away? But I don't want to be given away, Trip! I want to stay here with you!"

            "No, I mean, your behavior would tell people your true identity. Despite the mask. With the feathers."

            "My behavior? Hmm. Well, then I would act in a way I normally wouldn't, so no one would guess who I was!"

            "Yeah right. I don't think you could pull that off, buddy."

            "Well of _course_ I couldn't pull the mask off, then everyone would see it was me!"

            "No, I mean—Never mind. You're not going to wear a mask to this party. Maybe we'll have a costume party at some other time."

            "Oh. Well, alright then… What are _you_ going to wear to the party, Trip?"

            "Well—this."

            "Ohhhhh. I see."

            "What?"

            "I think it's a very practical choice."

            "You do?"

            "Oh, yes. Any spills will be well-camouflaged by all the other splotches of color, and knowing how you eat—"

            "Thanks, Mal."

 

            "Look at all these good eats, Mal. Hey, Ensign, what are these?"

            "Crab puffs, sir."

            "Looks delicious!"

            "Trip! Crab puffs!"

            "Now hang on a second, Mal—"

            "Crab comes from the sea!"

            "Oh good, I wasn't sure if you knew—"

            "Trip! Crab is a _sea food_!"

            "Wow, you sure put that together fast."

            "I can't eat seafood!"

            "That's right. So what are you going to do about the crab puffs?"

            "I'm not going to eat them!"

            "Very good."

            "I'm not going to eat anything in a one-dish radius around them!"

            "Well, I don't know if you need to go _that_ far… Hey, here's the fruit plate."

            "Ooh! Cherries!"

            "Now what are we _not_ going to do with the cherries, Mal?"

            "Um… Oh. We're _not_ going to gobble them whole like a greedy little pig!"

            "Very good. And _why_ aren't we going to do that?"

            "Because the little rocks inside are hard on our digestion!"

            "That's right. Now here's your cherries. You just put all the stones on the plate where I can see them. Keep moving."

            "What's this? It's all green and foamy, Trip! It looks like a Klingon beverage."

            "Really? Well this here is party punch."

            "Hmm, _sounds_ like a Klingon beverage as well. Does it taste meaty and yeasty?"

            "Um, no, Mal, it's kind of sweet and tangy and creamy. Here, you put some in a little cup like this. Now how's that?"

            "It's not meaty and yeasty at all, Trip!"

            "That's what I said, buddy."

            "It's sweet!"

            "Yes."

            "And tangy!"

            "And creamy?"

            "Well, I don't think it's very creamy. Maybe somewhat. Why do we have such small cups? It's a great big bowl full of punches!"

            "Bowl of _punch_ , Mal, it's just a bowl of punch. Come on."

            "What's this, Trip? _This_ smells like a Klingon beverage."

            "Ooh, this must be Chef's famous five-alarm chili! Hmm, I don't know if you'll like it, buddy, it's pretty hot."

            "But you just said it was chilly."

            "Okay, guess I should've seen that one coming. It's not _chilly_ , it's _chili_ , like chili peppers. It's hot, meaning spicy."

            "Oh. It's still rather confusing, isn't it?"

            "Er, well, I don't think so."

            "What's in this… _chili_?"

            "Oh, well, there's beans and tomatoes and onions and chili peppers—hence the name—"

            "But are chili peppers cold, Trip?"

            "No, Mal. They're named after, uh… Well, there's a country on Earth called Chile. I think the peppers come from there."

            "Really?"

            "Yes, absolutely. Now do you want some or—"

            "I don't think you _really_ know, Trip!"

            "Mal, you're holdin' up the line—"

            "I think you're just trying to _sound_ like you know when really you're just guessing!"

            "You caught me. No chili? Okay, let's move on—"

            "I think you're trying to be deceptive, Trip! I think you're trying to—to put a sheep on my head!"

            "I'm _what_? A sheep on your—Oh, do you mean, pull the wool over your eyes?"

            "I don't know. _Is_ that what I mean?"

            "I think so."

            "Well, that saying doesn't make any sense, Trip!"

            "Neither does 'put a sheep on my head'!"

            "Well, I thought it meant a way of distracting someone. I think it would be very distracting to have a sheep on one's head."

            "Yes, yes, I suppose it would be."

            "And while I was distracted by the sheep on my head, you could tell me that chili peppers came from a country called Chile, and I would say, 'Okay, Trip, that's fine, could you please help me get this sheep off my head?'"

            ::pause:: "Are you done?"

            "Yes, Trip."

            "Nothing else you want to say on the subject of sheep?"

            "Hmm… Nothing I can think of at the moment, Trip."

            "Good. Now, DO YOU WANT SOME CHILI?!"

            "Oh. Yes, please, Trip."

            "Fine, there you go. Now come on—"

            "Wait, wait, wait—Trip, what are these lumpy things in the chili?"

            "That's _meat_ , Mal. Chili has meat in it, usually."

            "Oh. What sort of meat is it?"

            "Hamburger. Which is beef, from a cow, and not ham, from a pig."

            "Yes, I know, Trip!"

            "Well, it seemed like a potential source of confusion, is all."

            "We've had that discussion before!"

            "Right. No need to have it again, then."

            "How true! Trip, you're so _sage_ —by which I mean _wise_ , and not that you're sort of grey-green and herby."

            "Thanks for clarifying that, Mal."

            "Trip! Look!"

            "Amazing."

            "They're cubes! Of cheese!"

            "Also known as… cheese cubes."

            "How practical!"

            "Yes, cheese cubes, the practical food."

            "Yummy!"

            "Hey! Don't be greedy! You don't need _all_ of those!"

            "But I want to build a shuttlepod out of cheese cubes! A _miniature_ shuttlepod, of course…"

            "Mal! Food is for eating, not playing with. Shouldn't think I'd have to tell _you_ that."

            "Well, I'll eat them after I've played with them."

            "No. Gimme your plate."

            "Commander! You're not putting those cheese cubes back on the tray, are you?"

            "Well, er—"

            "After you've _handled_ them?"

            "I handled them, too!"

            "No, no, I was just, uh—explaining to Mal that you don't put food back at a buffet."

            "You don't?"

            "No, see, it's unsanitary—Whew, that was close."

            "Do I get to keep my cheese cubes, then?"

            "I guess so—"

            "Hooray!"

            "—but your plate's full now, so go sit down."

            "But we're only halfway through the buffet!"

            "Well, you were greedy with the cheese cubes, so you have to give up other food."

            "But you didn't _tell_ me that at the beginning!"

            "One of those unexpected consequences in life. Go sit down."

 

            "Look, there's Captain Archer. Let's go sit by him."

            "Hey, Trip. Hi, Mal."

            "Hello, Captain Archer!"

            ::woof::

            "Hey there, Porthos! You're havin' fun, aren't ya, boy?"

            "I didn't know they allowed dogs at parties."

            "Mal, don't be rude."

            "Well, I just didn't _know_. I wasn't _aware_. That's all."

            "Mal, don't you give me any sass, or I'll—"

            " _Sass_?! Ooh, what's _sass_ , Trip? It sounds funny and frothy and delightful!"

            "I don't know, Trip, I think he's being pretty sassy."

            "Am I? How lovely!"

            "Mal. Just sit there quietly and eat your food, okay?"

            "Okay, Trip."

            ::boring conversation::

            "Trip! Trip!"

            " _What_ , Mal?"

            "Porthos is staring at me! Why is he staring at me?"

            "Maybe he thinks you look like a tasty party snack."

            ::gasp::

            "Trip."

            "Okay, okay. Calm down, Mal, Porthos doesn't want to eat you."

            "Are you _quite_ certain of that, Trip?"

            "Yes I am. Now just eat your own food, okay?"

            "But _why_ was he staring at me?!"

            "Mal. He was just looking around. Don't get all worked up over nothing."

            "It _wasn't_ nothing, Trip! I'm sure he's plotting something."

            "Mal. Eat."

            "Yes, Trip."

            ::boring conversation::

            "Whoa!"

            "What the—you okay, Ensign?"

            "Yes, sir, sorry, sir, didn't meant to interrupt. I just—"

            "He almost stepped on my plate!"

            "Thanks, Ensign, enjoy the party."

            "Yes, sir, thank you, sir."

            "Mal. Don't leave your plate on the floor!"

            "I was just _resting_ it there. Innocently. As one does."

            "That's what _tables_ are for, Mal. Put your plate on this coffee table here, not the floor. This is a party, after all—"

            "But I don't have to use a _table_ when we eat in the Captain's Mess! And that's like a party, isn't it?"

            "Yes, Mal, being Captain is like having a party every day."

            "I thought as much, Captain Archer."

            "Mal. There's a lot more people walkin' around at this party than there are in the Captain's Mess. And they're not expectin' to find a plate full of food sitting on the floor, right in their way!"

            "Well, they should learn to be more open-minded, Trip! They shouldn't be so biased against cultures that don't use tables!"

            "That's a good point, Mal."

            "You're not helping, Jon."

            "But Mal might be right, Trip. I mean, think of Dr. Phlox and T'Pol—some of the things they do may seem very strange to us, but we have to learn to accommodate them. We can't impose our own cultural biases on the other species we meet out here. You know, I was in Turkey once and—"

            "Uh, hang on, Jon, I gotta stop you before this becomes another gazelle speech."

            "What's wrong with my gazelle speech? I thought it was a very apt metaphor for humanity's—"

            "You were _inside a turkey_ once?! That must have been very smelly!"

            "No, Mal, Turkey is a country on Earth. It's just, I dunno, kinda _hokey_ , Jon—I mean, as metaphors go, it's a pretty big stretch from—"

            "Do turkeys come from Turkey, Trip?"

            "Uh, I don't know, Mal—"

            "I don't think it was a stretch at all! I was just trying to remind everyone that not every species develops at the same rate—"

            "Like chili peppers come from Chile? Oh, except _that_ might not be true."

            "Yeah, well, tellin' the Vulcans we're less advanced than a newborn gazelle is not _my_ idea of a good argument!"

            "What's a gazelle? Is it like a sheep? Are you trying to put a gazelle on my head about the turkeys?"

            "Mal! Would you stop talking nonsense?!"

            "Gazelle on his _head_? What?"

            "Please, ignore him, Jon, he's just babbling again—"

            "I'm _not_ babbling! I just want to know if—er—if—"

            "Yes?"

            "Well, I've forgotten what I wanted to know. I think it involved an animal."

            ::woof::

            "Not _you_ , Porthos. Anyway, your argument distracted me from my inquiry!"

            "Argument? What--?"

            "No, no, we weren't _arguing_ , Mal, we were just _discussing_ —"

            "Well it sounded like an argument to _me_! It was quite distressing."

            "Mal, just keep your plate off the floor."

            "Yes, Trip."

            ::boring conversation::

            "Trip!"

            "What!"

            "Oh, it's okay. You almost stepped on my plate, that's all."

            "I told you to put your plate on the table!"

            "Well, I _did_. But then I wanted to eat from it again, so I brought it back."

            "And then put it on the floor."

            "Only for a moment. You're just so _opportune_ , Trip, you chose that very moment to move your foot."

            "Mal."

            "Yes, Trip?"

            "Put your plate back on the table."

            "But I'm not done eating from it!"

            "Eat from it over that table! It's low enough."

            "But that table is so far away, Trip!"

            "It's half a meter! If that."

            "That's a long way, Trip! That's _quite_ a long way, when it separates me from you!"

            "Mal, I'm telling you for the last time, don't leave your plate on the floor!"

            "I bet it's _not_ for the last time…"

            "What was that? Was that _sass_ I heard?"

            "Um… I don't know, Trip. Is _sass_ good or bad again?"

            "Mal—"

            "Tri-i-ip—"

            "Come on, Trip, you're asking him to choose between _you_ and _food_. That's pretty cruel."

            "I suppose you have a point there, Jon. Mal, just—hold your plate in your lap, or put it on the table or something. But _don't_ leave it on the floor anymore, okay?"

            "Yes, Trip."

 

            "…so then the first guy turns to him and says, 'What? I thought you were a shuttle pilot!'"

            "I don't get it."

            "I do, but it's not really 'ha ha' funny."

            "What do you mean by _that_?"

            "Well, nothing, Trip, just that—"

            "HA HA HA, a shuttle pilot! HA HA! Trip, you are _so_ funny! A shuttle pilot… Whew!"

            "Is he being sarcastic?"

            "What? No! Mal loves my jokes! It's one of his best qualities."

            "A shuttle pilot! Hee hee! Trip, tell that very, very funny joke about Talula who does the hula from—"

            "Well! We don't need to spend all our jokes in one evening, do we?"

            "I don't recall that joke, Commander."

            "I'll tell you later, Hoshi…"

            "I _do_ recall that joke, _Commander_."

            "Er, maybe I _won't_ tell you later…"

 

            "Here's your plate, Trip."

            "Thanks, Mal. Anyway, I—"

            "Wow, that looks appetizing."

            "Mal!"

            "Yes, Trip?"

            "What did you do to my food?!"

            "Oh, I cut it into _very small pieces_ so you wouldn't choke on it."

            "Gee. Thanks."

            "Because I love you so much and I don't want you to choke and die, Trip!"

            "That's very sweet, Mal."

            "Thank you, Captain Archer."

            "Yes. Sweet."

            "Wow, he even minced the crackers."

            "Yes. Mal is very thorough."

            "Maybe I could get you a straw?"

            "No, _thank you_ , Jon. I have a spoon."

            "Shall I feed you, Trip? Ooh, say I can!"

            "No. You take this plate, Mal. I'm going to get a fresh one. With, you know, _whole_ food on it."

            "But Trip…!"

 

            "Porthos! Tri-i-ip! Porthos ate all my cheese cubes!"

            "What— _all_ of them?"

            "Yes, _all_ , he's _so greedy_ —"

            "Porthos! Come here, boy!"

            "Mal, I told you to keep your plate off the floor!"

            "Well, I was just—"

            "Got him! Porthos, you know that much cheese isn't good for you! What do you think, Doc?"

            "Well, perhaps it would be best if we went down to Sick Bay—"

            "But he just _took_ them, Trip! He pushed me down and _took_ them!"

            "You're bigger than he is!"

            "Well, I don't understand why you're mad at me!"

            "Cheese isn't good for Porthos, especially that much of it!"

            "Oh. But it wasn't _my_ fault—"

            "I told you not to leave your plate on the floor! Porthos wouldn't have _gotten_ the cheese if you'd put your plate on the table like I said!"

            "WAAAHHH! I didn't mean to hurt Porthos! Even though he's loud and sort of smelly, I didn't mean to kill him! WAAAHHH!"

            "Mal, you didn't kill him, we're just going to go to—Oh. Never mind. Um…"

            "Well, Porthos seems to have taken care of the problem on his own! Isn't the body a wonderful thing?"

            "Um, yeah, Doc. So he's alright now?"

            "Oh yes. Perhaps give him a little water. And no rich foods!"

            "You got it, Doc. Come on, Porthos, you've had some excitement today."

            "T'Pol to Maintenance. Please report to the Mess Hall. Immediately."

            "Um, thanks, T'Pol."

            "WAAAHHH! WAAAHHH!"

            "Okay, Mal, would you calm down, please, buddy?"

            ::sniffle sniffle::

            "I'm sorry I yelled at you, okay?"

            "Will Porthos be alright?"

            "Yes, he's fine, see over there?"

            "I'm sorry, Trip, I didn't mean to let him eat my cheese cubes!"

            "I know, buddy. Why don't you come over here with me and we'll get you a clean plate, okay?"

            "Okay!"

            "Right, now here are some melon balls—you like melon balls, right?—and here are some pretzels—"

            "Hey! My cheese cubes!"

            "I think we've all had quite enough cheese for the day, buddy—"

            "No, look, Trip! My cheese cubes are over there on the floor! What are they doing on the floor? I thought Porthos ate them. And why are they all shiny?"

            "Never you mind those cheese cubes. You just sit here by me and eat your party food, okay? Don't even look at them!"

            "Okay, Trip!"

 

            "—right, so I've just about got the fish hooked, and—"

            "Here's a pretzel for you, Trip!"

            "What? Oh, thanks. So, the fish is just about hooked and…"

            "Something wrong?"

            "Chef must be on a health kick again. This pretzel's as bland as a piece of white bread."

            "Really? Mine are fine."

            "Here's another pretzel for you, Trip!"

            "Thanks, Mal. Yeah, look at it, Jon, no salt at all! Mal, did you grab the unsalted pretzels or something?"

            "No, Trip."

            "Well, that's just weird—"

            "I nibbled the salt crystals off before I gave you the pretzel!"

            "You—er—ugh—"

            "All that salt isn't good for you, you know!"

            "That's very thoughtful of you, Mal. I'm sure Trip appreciates your concern."

            "Well, I don't think he does right now, Captain Archer. But he will someday!"

            "Maybe Captain Archer would like some desalted pretzels, too, Mal."

            "No, thanks. I have Porthos to nibble all my food first."

            ::whisper:: "That's rather disgusting, don't you think, Trip?"

            ::whisper:: "I think he's just joking, Mal."

            "Trip! I just thought!"

            "Well hallelujah."

            "What if Captain Archer sent Porthos to steal my cheese cubes for _him_?!"

            "Would you put the cheese cubes outta your mind, Mal? Just give up on them!"

            "He might've, though. Porthos was quite aggressive in knocking me down! Like he was a dog on a mission."

            "What are you two whispering about over there?"

            "Nothing!"

            "Nothing!"

            "I'll bet."

            "Gimme some more pretzels, Mal. And leave the salt _on_."

 

            "—right in front of the Admiral, holding the wet spaghetti, and he says—"

            "Trip! Trip!"

            "Hush, Mal, don't interrupt the Captain."

            "But Ensign Parma is over there!"

            "So?"

            "She leads my _tai chi_ group!"

            "I know, Mal, I deliver you to her three mornings a week. Now did you have a point to make, or are you just being rude?"

            "I thought we could go say hello to her."

            "That's a good idea. You go say hello to her, and I'll stay here and listen to the Captain's story."

            "But you've heard his story before! Lots of times."

            "Mal!"

            "You have? Hmm, I thought I hadn't told you this one…"

            "It's okay, Jon, it's a good story, really. Mal, if you wanna say hello, just get on over there and say it."

            "By myself?"

            "Yes, by yourself."

            "I can't go by myself!"

            "Mal, she's barely three meters away. I think you can handle it."

            "But what do I say, Trip? I don't know what to say!"

            "You'll think of something. Now go on, scoot."

            "But—"

            "Scoot!"

 

            "So you've really heard that story before?"

            "Well… yeah. But it's really funny."

            "Hmm… So, Mal seems to have gotten over his fear of talking to someone alone."

            "Oh yeah. I figured he would once I booted him out. Just needs a little push, that's all."

            "What do you think he's telling her about? Something about… flying?"

            "He _is_ awfully animated…"

            "Maybe he's telling her about the giant wild prairie chicken."

            " _Mountain_ chicken, Jon, the giant _mountain_ chicken."

            "My mistake. Oh, here he comes."

            "Trip! I'm back!"

            "Wow, a whole six minutes apart. I think that's a new record."

            "I missed you, Trip! Did you miss me?"

            "No."

            "I think you did! You _did_ miss me, Trip! Well, don't worry, I won't ever leave you again!"

            "Thanks, Mal."

 

            "Hello, Mal."

            "Hello, Hoshi! Have you come to talk to me?"

            "That's right! How are you enjoying the party?"

            "Oh, it's alright, I suppose. I like all the food just sitting over there on the table. But, there's so many people! I would rather be working in Engineering, or snuggled up in bed with Trip!"

            "I know what you mean. I—"  
            "Oh? Would _you_ like to be snuggled up in bed with Trip, too?"

            "No! That's not what I meant!"  
            "Oh. Well, that's good, because his bed is really rather small and I'm not sure all of us could fit comfortably. Although, as you're of a somewhat small stature—"

            "I only meant that sometimes I feel shy at parties, too, and would rather be someplace I'm more comfortable."

            "Oh. Well, that's nice to know, Hoshi! Trip doesn't feel shy at parties at all, you know."

            "So I've noticed."

            "So I'm just sitting quietly here by his chair until he gets back from 'making the rounds.' What do you think he's making round, Hoshi?"

            "I think it's just a saying, Mal. It means he's walking around the room, talking to people."

            "Oh. That makes much more sense… Say, did you hear about Porthos and my cheese cubes?"

            "I heard some kind of fuss a while ago…"

            "I had all these cheese cubes, you see, and Porthos came and knocked me down and ate them all!"

            "That's awful, Mal."

            "Well, I shouldn't have had my plate on the floor, you see. Trip told me to put it on the table. And, I think Porthos was really acting on Captain Archer's behalf."

            "Uh, really?"

            "Oh yes. I think Captain Archer really wanted my cheese cubes, and he sent Porthos to _fetch_ them!"

            "Ooo-kay. But I thought cheese wasn't good for Porthos. Is he alright?"

            "Oh, yes. Porthos threw up all the cheese cubes, just over there! It was a big, wet, shiny pile of nearly undigested cheese cubes. Maintenance came and cleaned it up. Isn't that disgusting, Hoshi?"

            "Er, yeah, Mal, it really is…"

            "Say, have you tried Chef's chili? It's got all these chewy chunky meat lumps in it! It's quite good. Would you like a bite, Hoshi?"

            "Um, no, thank you, Mal, excuse me."

            "Hoshi?"

 

            "Commander T'Pol! Did you come over to talk to me?"

            "No. I am merely passing by your location."

            "Oh. Well, wouldn't you rather sit and talk to me for a few minutes?"

            "My personal preference is to continue with my predetermined journey."

            "Oh, won't you stop and talk to me, Commander T'Pol? I'm all alone here because Trip is making things round!"

            "Very well. I suppose it is logical to engage in conversation at a social occasion."

            "I'll say! It's terribly logical, and quite lovely, too."

            "What topic shall we discuss?"

            "Um… What's your favorite party food?"

            "I do not have a personal preference. However, the leaves of this vegetable seem nutritionally satisfying."

            "Oh, that's called _spinach_. It's from Earth! It's alright, I think, but not very sweet."

            "You are correct in that its sugar content is relatively low."

            "Did you know, spinach has lots of _metal_ in it!"

            "Metal."

            "Yes, Dr. Phlox told me. And, Trip and I watched some rather old cartoons from Earth about a man who ate canned spinach and became very strong!"

            "That seems an unusual topic for a source of entertainment, even for humans."

            "The plots are so complicated, I couldn't follow them. But just when you think he's been defeated by the villain, he somehow pops open a can of spinach and eats it, and he gains superhuman strength. Do _you_ have superhuman strength, Commander T'Pol?"

            "Yes. However, it is not correlated to the consumption of spinach."

            "Oh. Are you sure?"

            "Quite certain."

            "Oh… Say, did you hear about Porthos and my cheese cubes?"

            "I witnessed the event, peripherally."

            "Well, Porthos knocked me down and stole my cheese cubes—"

            "I believe you are exaggerating."

            "Am I? Oh, well, see, I think he was on a mission from Captain Archer—"

            "That seems fanciful."

            "Er, yes, well, I know! It's hard to believe. But I think Captain Archer wanted my cheese cubes."

            "If Captain Archer wished to partake of the cheese cubes, they are freely available on the buffet table. He has no need to obtain them by force or subterfuge."

            "Yes, well, er, that's what made his plan so devilish and cunning! Who would suspect?"

            "Obviously Captain Archer did not anticipate the serpentine contortions of your thought process, Mal."

            "No! No, he didn't at all. Er, and then, Porthos _threw up_ the cheese cubes! All over the floor!"

            "A biological necessity. Continued digestion of that quantity of cheese would have been quite detrimental to his health."

            "Er, yes. Do Vulcans ever throw up, Commander T'Pol?"

            "Occasionally. When we are ill and must rid our bodies of toxins. And there is no advanced medical care available."

            "It's rather disgusting, isn't it?"

            "It is not logical to assign negative connotations to a process which is required for health, and is often involuntary. We must merely accept its existence, though the experience may not always be… agreeable."

            "You're very _sage_ , Commander T'Pol."

            "Thank you."

            "Just like Trip!"

            "I am sure you believe so. I must now depart and speak to someone else."

            "Okay! It was fun talking to you."

            "I also find conversation with you to be… challenging, Mal."

            "Thank you!"

 

            "Well, buddy, did you like the party?"

            "It was alright, I suppose. It was quite traumatic, really!"

            "Oh, well, you shouldn't worry about the thing with Porthos. He was okay."

            "Porthos? Oh, yes—my cheese cubes! I forgot about all that."

            " _Forgot_? You wouldn't shut up about the cheese cubes! And you almost _killed_ Porthos!"

            "I _didn't_ almost kill him! Captain Archer said he was alright after he threw up my cheese cubes. And anyway, Porthos was very greedy and _took_ the cheese cubes by force. It was his own fault, really."

            "Well if you _forgot_ about this oh-so-distant event, just what did you think was so traumatic about the party?"

            "Crab puffs!"

            "Oh, right."

            "I shall have nightmares about them tonight."

            "No, you won't."

            "Little fried puffs of death, that's what they are."

            "Oh, hush."


End file.
